


Red

by MissingJadeMonkey88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Violence, Dark Harry Potter, Gen, Gore, Insanity, Murder, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingJadeMonkey88/pseuds/MissingJadeMonkey88
Summary: The human mind can only take so much before it shatters.And Harry, well, he's never been all that sane to begin with. After Sirius' death, he breaks.





	Red

It was such a pretty colour that decorated the room, so very pretty…

He frowned at the cream that ruined the walls with its bland appearance in some spots.

‘That just won’t do, not at all,’ he thought, displeased at the dull colour. He glared at it as if it would disappear with force of his hate-filled stare.

It didn’t…oh well

Harry sighed heavily, brushing his fingers across the wet blotches that covered the hallway wall. The lovely red colour stuck to his fingers as he dragged his fingers across the wall as he walked to the living room.

“Aunt Petunia, do you like the new paint job? It’s gorgeous, right? And to think, Uncle Vernon even helped with the lovely new change in décor!” he smiled happily at his Aunt that was huddled in the corner of the room. She didn’t answer him as she clutched Dudley’s unconscious body to her chest, though high pitched sobs escaped her against her will.

They were divine sounds. It made him feel all warm inside.

The wizard watched his Aunt with fascination. He could practically hear what she was thinking, she knew she couldn't run, he wouldn't let her. Aunt Petunia wouldn't leave her son and she couldn't fight him, the woman was too terrified to even try. She thought him a Monster, he knew. After all, Harry had just tortured her husband before her eyes, taking his pound of flesh for all the pain and suffering he endured under the care of the Dursley Family for years.

Humming to himself, he grinned at her, and her sobs rose in volume. Pity the other boy was unconscious and didn’t get to watch Harry slit Uncle Vernon’s throat, it was magnificent. He painted the walls with his dear, dead Uncle’s blood. But it wasn’t enough red, he needs more.

Harry turned his gaze downward at the knife in his hand, it was dripping with red. Green eyes switched its gaze to the other hand; it was also covered with his new favourite colour, the red almost shining as he titled his hand at certain angles. 

He knew, in some rational part of his mind that what he did, what he was doing, was wrong. Disgusting. Horrifying. Sick. Twisted. Criminal. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Murdering people wasn’t normal, it was what Tom and his followers did, and it wasn’t right or light.

Harry laughed softly, that rhymed.

But he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, nor did he feel disgusted. For the first time in his life he felt wonderful.

If this what living truly felt like, then he never wanted it to end

His Aunt whimpered and he turned his lazy gaze on her in response. He wondered absently if she would scream as nicely as Uncle Vernon did, his gaze turned sharp and speculative in response to his thoughts and he decided there would be no harm in asking and did just that.

She cried even louder in response.

“Tsk, I think Dudley is missing out on all the fun, maybe it’s time to wake him up! Rise and shine Dudley, we’re going to have some fun!” Harry cooed with a grin on his face, his expression destroying the softness of his voice, a vicious parody of a smile stretched across his red, red lips. Harry glanced down at his bloodied and torn clothing and tsked, if only Vernon didn’t fight back in the beginning, he wouldn’t have taken so long in killing him. 

Oh well, what’s done is done. 

Aunt Petunia or Dudley? Aunt Petunia or Dudley. Maybe he’d do both, let the mother and son watch each other suffer. Brilliant plan.

Harry crouched down in front of Petunia and leaned forward, “Aunt Petunia, don’t you think that rest of the house could do with a new paint job, hmm?” And as quick as lightning he had her throat in hand, cutting off any chance of reply.

Leaning closer, he whispered to Aunt Petunia, “Well, you know what I think,” he said softly into the ear of the woman struggling in his grasp, who was failing to claw his hand off her throat and gasping for air, “I think that this place could use a little more sprucing up, hmm, I’ve grown extraordinarily fond of a certain colour in the last few hours. And don’t worry it won’t cost you a penny or pound, just your life…and your son’s as well.”

A manic grin spread across his red lips, tugging at the corners as if it wanted to split the soft skin of his cheeks and grow larger. An insane light entered his Avada Kedavra green eyes, the stain of madness finally appearing. Wild black hair, matted with blood fell over his eyes and dripped drops of red onto his face.

Aunt Petunia, with what was left of her remaining breath, screamed for mercy. 

And Harry laughed in delight.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago, when I was frustrated about Harry's treatment and mental state in canon. So here's my take, because that boy was a few steps away from a psychotic break after Sirius' death. Maybe I'll clean this up a bit in the future and make it a part of a series of ficlets based on "Crazy As Fuck Harry" idea. Also copious amount of commas, I know. 
> 
> Review and Kudos, please! Thank you for reading.


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